


Seek Me Out

by TheWritingMagi



Series: A Heart and a Half [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Mentions of incest, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2019-03-16 11:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13635447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingMagi/pseuds/TheWritingMagi
Summary: Kana continued to plead to her, begged her to keep breathing, and it felt like he was a thirteen year old boy again.But only the gods are immortal. He knew this, and Kana embraced his mother as she breathed her last in his arms.





	Seek Me Out

When Kana was young, he used to believe that his mother was a goddess.

That obviously wasn’t the case now since he’d grown and learned to differentiate between powerful and god-like, but when he was nothing more than a boy, his mother had been the pinnacle of the world. So kind, yet she held so much strength and wisdom, almost more than young Kana could comprehend.

People named his devotion and love for her just ‘a boy loving his mother dearly.’ For a time, Kana believed the strength of his love for his mother was just that: the love of a son.

It wasn’t until he realized that she wasn’t a goddess that he had loved her as such. Watching her fall in the final battle of the war was his turning point.

Kana’s brother Shiro had been in charge of keeping him safe through that battle, even though their mother had protested against having a thirteen-year-old boy fight. Kana had obediently kept beside his elder brother, a mere spearman at the time wielding the Waterwheel. Hope had fled long before, and Kana couldn’t tell if the shaking was his own or his brother’s, or even the ground shaking as Anankos ravaged his parents’ army.

He had felt an enormous rush of relief when he saw their mother, racing through the fray like the goddess Kana had thought she was. She swung the divine Yato to and fro, cutting down enemies as if they were nothing but wind. She, the goddess among men, the dragon queen of Hoshido, his very own mother. He had cried for her, feeling so very weak in comparison to her on the battlefield, even if he did have her divine blood coursing through his veins.

Shiro hardly moved a muscle at the sight of their mother, merely parrying enemies away from him and Kana as if he were in a trance. Kana only held onto his brother, still crying for their mother as he moved with Shiro as if he would perish instantly if he let go. She continued to close in on them until a final spurt of energy allowed her to leap before them and turn her back on her sons.

Kana had thought she was moving to defend them, loosening his grip on his brother to move beside her and actually make use of the silver katana his father had gifted him at his first birthday outside of his Deeprealm.

Then he saw the arrowhead protruding from the back of her shoulder.

Everything slowed significantly around the young prince. His grey eyes inherited from his father widened, fingers completely uncurling from his brother’s tunic. _No, this isn’t right. Mama is invincible. She can’t get hurt. She’s always protected me._ Very quickly, he became light-headed and sick to his stomach, so much so that his katana slipped from his clammy fingers and he screamed.

What he could remember from the events that followed was befuddled at best. He could remember holding his mother’s head in his lap, rearing his head back and howling to the false sky above him. The roar of a dragon could also be heard, but it sounded far too close to be Anankos and Kana had his dragonstone attached to a chain around his neck beneath his Hoshidan armour, so it couldn’t be himself.

And his mother was unconscious in his arms.

Kana had begged whatever higher power there was to allow his mother to live. That alone had forced him to accept that she wasn’t the deity he had always believed she was, because no deity could be hurt or killed. Nausea he felt only grew as he whimpered prayers he never thought he’d say.

When the boy finally snapped from his sobbing trance, it was to a painful draconic cry. He blinked, the fingers of one hand tangled into his beloved mother’s ash hair he failed to inherit, and his other hand trembling violently over her armour where the arrow had pierced. An arrow type Kana had never seen before. Vallite, no doubt.

Kana’s grip tightened on his wounded mother and he glanced around himself, eyes raw with tears, the same eyes that took in the sight of horror around him.

Shiro was nowhere to be seen. In his wake, Vallite, Hoshidan and Nohrian bodies and blood littered the battlefield, limbs were torn away and deep teeth marks visible in the majority of them.

What was happening? Kana stuttered for breath, rocking back and forth over his mother’s form. Where was Shiro? Where was his father? His family? Friends? _Anyone?_

“Mama…” he whimpered, clenching his eyes shut to the horror and leaning his head against his mother’s cheek. It was losing its heat. “Mama, don’t leave me…”

_“Lady Corrin! Lord Kana!”_

Kana’s head snapped up. The voice had belonged to his mother’s most loyal retainer, Jakob. Behind him was the remainder of his mother’s retainers, among them Kana’s godfather, Silas, who pulled the prince into his arms and away from his limp mother. Kana cried in anguish and desperately reached for his mother, losing sight of her as her retainers surrounded her and tried to revive her.

More came quickly, his aunts Sakura and Elise taking initiative in order to save their elder sister. Kana’s father finally arrived from the head of the battle, and the young boy couldn’t help but begin to cry once again. “Papa!” he sobbed audibly, gripping his father when the High Prince of Hoshido took him from Silas’s protective grasp.

The man kept a tight hold on his son, the boy still small enough to be held like a toddler. A gentle, but firm hand was kept on the back of Kana’s head, keeping him from seeing the bloody process of saving his mother.

Kana was sure she was going to die. Only gods couldn’t die. Mortals dropped like flies in the world he lived in. His mother was going to die.

***

Kana remained still as the coronation was announced. He stood in the shadows of the corridor just outside of the Vallite throne room, hearing his mother speak high words towards the kingdom she had ruled for seventeen years and the son who would be taking her place.

The Grand Duke of Valla released the heavy breath he didn’t know he had been holding. Why was he nervous? He had told his brother, King of Hoshido, not a day prior that nothing could break the concentration he had been building for close to a week. He had to do this right. He was the latest of a long line of Vallite kings and queens, but he was also the son of a continental saviour. There was a heavy responsibility being placed upon his shoulders in a mere few minutes.

Adjusting his deep auburn locks with a final swipe of his hand and blinking his grey eyes several times, Kana took his cue and nodded to the guards to open the enormous double doors to the throne room.

“Shall we?” he smiled to his violet-haired companion and held out his hand as the cheering from the throne room enveloped him. Mitama smiled in return and took his hand, and together they faced the crowd and proceeded to the throne.

Kana beamed, showing his mother’s charismatic smile to his subjects. Hoshidans, Nohrians and Vallites alike cried their ratification, and once he and his wife reached the throne, Kana could see his family waiting for him.

To the left, the Nohrian Royals stood tall and proud, this side of Kana’s family wearing the deep purple, gold, and charcoal of Nohr. First was his aunt Elise, only a mere eight years older than Kana, wore her faded rose strategist robes with the addition of a rose gold circlet at the crown on her loose blonde and violet curls. Her husband Keaton wore traditional Wolfskin Chief clothing, the red complementing Elise’s outfit well. In front of them was Velouria, Keaton’s arm around his daughter’s shoulders. Velouria gave Kana a smile, the Wolfskin princess in close quarters with her retainer and husband, Ignatius, and pale blonde half-blood Wolfskin daughter, Naveria.

Then there was the former second Nohrian Prince, now into his early forties. Leo wore his armour well polished, obviously new and lacking battle-ware. His docile wife, the former songstress Layla, was someone Kana hardly knew outside of her exquisite performances in Cyrkensia during inter-kingdom gatherings. Though, Kana had to admit that the older woman look lavishing in her deep violet gown.

Their son and someone Kana had been close with during the war years, Forrest, wore a similar outfit to his aunt Elise, though instead in a deeper burgundy, his lilac ringlets fanning out over his slight shoulders. He smiled modestly to Kana as he passed, giving his cousin a slight wave with a dainty gloved hand. To his left, his wife Soleil had her fierce blonde curls held back in a high ponytail as she held her husband’s arm in hers, taller and with more armour encasing her form. Kana had always seen them as such an odd couple, especially when Roan, their son, was born and Soleil’s father claimed he seemed like a reincarnation of her paternal grandmother, right down to the pale pink hair.

Next came Camilla and Silas, the doting aunt/godmother and godfather that loved Kana’s mother fiercely and loved Kana just as much since he had been born. They wore matching colours of gold and deep maroon, Camilla in a fine ruffled gown and Silas in his armour as per usual. Sophie grinned from beside her parents to Kana, excitedly tugging on her dreary husband’s arm. The dark-haired Dwyer sighed and gave Kana a small but proud smile, Kana’s retainer happy to finally see the once carefree young boy finally all grown up. Their young daughter, Emeline, with her father’s hair and her mother’s grin, looked just as happy as Sophie in her armour.

Finally of the Nohrian Royalty came Xander and Hinoka, the proud and pure royals that united Nohr and Hoshido with their marriage and birth of their son and current Nohrian king, Siegbert. The fire haired king stood as tall as his father these days, the crown seeming heavy upon his brow and his hair swept back with gel. He smiled with experience of the situation Kana was going through, his eyes reassuring his cousin that he was going to be alright. His unassuming queen Nina was giving Kana a smirk, reminding the soon-to-be king of their conversations of nobility and righteousness years and years ago. Who knew she would become Nohr’s queen just a decade later?

Adrian, the eldest of the third generation following the war, had his paternal grandfather’s blonde hair and his mother’s ebony skin and teal eyes. Though the boy was hardly even Kana’s age when his mother had taken the throne, he looked wise beyond his years, and it almost made Kana disconcerted to see a boy his age so… _mature._ And he knew exactly who it reminded him of.

Himself, immediately following the war.

_Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out._

To the right of him was his Hoshidan family, though far fewer people stood with the eastern nation. First was Sakura, opposite to Elise and her family, though no children or partner stood with his aunt this time. When Sakura had become a priestess after the war, she also swore an oath of chastity: no lovers, spouses or children. She was alright with it, seeing as her siblings and in-laws had more than enough children and grandchildren for her to coddle like her own. She looked like a queen herself in her holy robes, eyes wise and smile kind.

Kana’s youngest uncle Takumi was beside his younger sister, his silver hair tied back with feathers and satin ribbons threaded through the strands. He wore armour similar to the late King Sumeragi of Hoshido, though his Fujin Yumi still could be found at his back in the stead of a katana. The quiet Mozu, his wife, wore a modest yukata, her hair still the same as Kana could remember it being during the war but just a few inches longer.

Their son and his wife, Kiragi and the frightening Rhajat, looked like polar opposites. Prince Kiragi, with his charcoal hair, freckles and cheerful smile towards Kana, wore an ash grey sniper’s outfit speckled with brass and blue colours, his father’s vambraces and gloves on his arms. Rhajat, her deep blue hair from her mother and her as always creepy smirk showing, wore dark onmyoji robes spliced with a yukata. Rhajat had her hands on their equally disconcerting daughter’s shoulders, the girl’s hair as dark as her father’s and her eyes bored as she watched the goingson of around her. Her name was Tharja, if Kana remembered correctly.

The king himself was at the head of the Hoshidan line. Shiro was in the full armour passed to him from their father, including the conspicuous chin armour he usually opted to leave off, and Raijinto sat at his hip in its sheath. Kana’s elder brother grinned, overjoyed, just like he used to, and gave Kana a thumbs up. It didn’t matter if Shiro was close to forty years of age _and_ was the King of Hoshido: he’d always treat Kana like his kid brother. Beside him, Queen Caeldori smiled happily to her younger brother-in-law, her illustrious falcon knight armour gleaming under the thousands of  magic-induced candles around the throne room, and the sun tiara of the Hoshidan Queen suited her like thunder and lightning.

Their twin children, Prince Akatsuki and Princess Aniko, were just a year younger than their cousin and the Nohrian prince. In contrast to young Adrian, though, both grinned with the same gladness of their father as their uncle passed by them. Surprisingly enough, the Hoshidan princess harboured light navy locks held back with a small headband, and his sister sported sheer cyan hair, even brighter than Shigure’s. Even more astounding, they shared sets of deep golden eyes, topping off the lack of likeness to any none person in their family. At least they had Shiro’s personality to prove they were the king’s children.

But where had they gotten those off-kilter hair colours? Perhaps from their great-grandmother’s sister, though that seemed far-fetched at best.

And to finish off Kana and Mitama’s family, their parents and daughter stood atop the dais of the throne. On the left, Basara Orochi and Great Master Azama looked as if they were both crying, the divine duo almost ecstatic that their daughter was able to become a powerful queen. On the right, Kana’s father, former King of Hoshido, held his granddaughter and Kana’s own child in his arms proudly. Veena was no more than three years of age since the last moon, and she had starry eyes from her mother and wild auburn tresses from her father. Noticing Mitama smile at the sight of their beautiful daughter, Kana could not help but smile as well.

The benevolent Queen of Valla stood tall and firm before the throne, the Vallite crown in her hands today instead of upon her pale hair. Corrin graced her youngest son with a smile worthy of a goddess, and Kana flinched.

Suddenly, with a flash of electricity, Shiro ripped Raijinto from its sheath and sliced deftly through the air. The audience gasped at the sudden display, a few surprised screams scattering through the crowd. Kana’s gaze snapped up to see an arrow at Shiro’s feet, now cleaved in half by the king.

An arrow?!

Kana planned to throw himself in front of his wife to protect her, as Shiro was now doing with Caeldori and his children. But, he was stopped when his mother grabbed hold of him and spun, shielding her son as the second arrow flew.

 _“No!”_ Kana shrieked as the arrow meant for him punctured his mother in his stead. She gasped, her aging body betraying her facade of unwavering strength as her knees buckled and the Vallite crown slipped from her hands. _“Gods, no! MOTHER!!”_

By instinct alone, Kana tugged the chain out from under his armour and gripped his dragonstone tightly, his jaw locked as he forced himself to not shed tears. His mother fell into his arms, slowly, so _slowly_ , and Kana sunk to the floor of the dais. “Mother,” he whispered under the fray of screams and shouting around him. “Mother, open your eyes. Come now, Mother, this is not the time for this. ...Mother, _please.”_

Kana continued to plead to her, begged her to keep breathing, and it felt like he was a thirteen year old boy again.

But only the gods are immortal. He knew this, and Kana embraced his mother as she breathed her last in his arms.

***

Silence lay heavy in the Vallite Solar two weeks later. No man nor woman, family member or friend spoke as the newly crowned Vallite King contemplated, his focus trained on nothing but the splintered arrows on the Great Table.

To his left stood Dwyer, awaiting any command his liege may give him. To Kana’s right, his cousin and trusted commander Sophie sat restlessly, chewing her lip as she glanced between Kana and her husband, who met her gaze with the same worried look. Around the table, the remaining military personnel and Vallite officials, as well as foreign emissaries, shared the expressions of the couple flanking the king.

Finally, the first to slice through the silence of the most influential people in the three kingdoms was nothing more than a grieving husband.

“Kana,” Ryoma began, tired eyes finding his youngest son. He sat several places away from the Vallite, next to Shiro instead, and no longer looked like the proud and undaunted former king of Hoshido. Every pair of eyes flickered to him, but Ryoma only paid attention to Kana. “Vengeance will not bring her back.”

Now, Kana’s gaze snapped to his father, his expression contorting into something alien to his handsome features. “You think I don’t know that?” the young king all but spat in a venomous tone, as if he were not speaking to his own sire. “Do not give me that look, Father. You have been gracing me with those disgustingly piteous eyes since I was a child, and I am _sick of it.”_

No one gasped, but the audience in the Vallite Solar was collectively stunned.

Ryoma, as well, narrowed his eyes, the sting of Kana’s words evident in his expression. “It is not a look of pity, my-”

“Then it is a facade of blaming others,” Kana cut Ryoma off before the older man could say ‘my son’. “Blaming others for the mistakes of your own lack of judgement.”

“Kana!” Shiro now bellowed angrily, ending the argument between father and son before it could escalate any further. “You are _not_ the only one who lost Mother, you naive moron!” the king reminded Kana, who could only look away indignantly.

“Shiro, calm yourself,” Ryoma soothed, placing a hand on his eldest son’s shoulder and giving him a weary smile. “Did I not teach you to hold rein over your emotions?”

Shiro heaved a heavy sigh, eyes boring into his brother before he slumped back into his seat. “Forgive me,” he murmured, though Kana did not know if it was to him, their father, or himself.

Silence descended once more; this may have been an international dilemma, but it was more a family matter, and no one argued the husband and sons of the assassinated queen were the most impacted. Her siblings may have contested it, but even they knew as much was true. Ryoma had reigned without her at his side, had to live for fifteen years in separate counties before they could finally be together once more. Kana himself remembered his father admitting he had been jealous of his own son: he had always been physically at her side, whereas Ryoma’s vow to do so was merely superficial. The same went for Shiro, though the now Hoshidan king had had far more freedom to travel than his father and saw her far more often.

Kana could not remember a time he had ever seen his parents happier and in love than the day Ryoma abdicated the throne and returned to Valla permanently. They had acted like newlyweds.

The Vallite King suddenly grit his teeth, his eyes involuntarily squeezing shut against the pathetic tears that threatened him. How could he be so childish? His father had essentially only spent the last two years of a thirty-year marriage with his wife, and all Kana could do was act like a selfish brat. Shiro was right: it was not just him who had lost their mother. Shiro had as well, and Ryoma had lost his wife and the love of his life. Her siblings had lost her. Her friends, allies, and subjects had lost her.

“Don’t apologize,” Kana now relented, slackening his muscles shamefully. “I spoke insensitively, and have only myself to blame for that. Forgive my malice, if you can.”

Shiro nodded after a moment of hesitation, and Ryoma gave the Vallite a weak smile.

“And you’re right, Father,” he continued. His eyes fell upon the arrow in the center, narrowing as he studied the tip and fletching of it. “Vengeance will not bring Mother back. But this arrow… It concerns me. It gives off a sense of malicious intent in more ways than one. Do you agree?”

“The wood is from a basswood tree, which is native to Northern Nohr,” Leo commented, plucking the arrow from the table and examining it. Of course his scholarly eyes could pick up such a fact. “But these feathers, and the arrowhead as well, are not Nohrian.”

“Kinshi feathers,” Hinoka disclosed mournfully, Leo passing his sister-in-law and former queen the arrow. “Only the most elite of the Hoshidan aerial military are kinshi knights. It is also cruel to pluck their feathers, as they are a rare bird nowadays.”

“It’s safe to say the arrowhead is Vallite; what do you say, Midori?” Kana concluded, turning to the royal Vallite healer. The pale haired, tanned woman sighed, nodding her confirmation. Kana nodded, feeling the weight of the revelations. “So this was no one assailant. There is something more at work.”

“Someone is obviously trying to send a message,” his uncle Takumi cried, standing from his chair suddenly. “Rebels, or dissenters, from all the nations!”

“Or just assassins who wish to create conflict between us,” former King Xander rebuked his brother-in-law with a thoughtful expression.

“Either way,” Kana broke in, seeing his uncle’s flared expression, “vengeance will not return my mother, as my father has already said.” He noticed Ryoma nod approvingly, and he had to shove his anger back down his throat. “But this is an act of war: a declaration against all of us. If we do not retaliate and take measures against these assailants, we may lose the peace we have all worked so hard for..” The Vallite king surveyed the room and the members of his court and extended family. To his brother and cousin, his fellows kings, he said,”It is our move; what will we do?”

 

***

 

Kana found his wife in their personal courtyard adjacent to their chambers, reading poetry to their daughter. He paused, not wanting to ruin the serenity of their exchange, but Mitama had sensed him.

"The council went well?" she called, looking up as he stepped towards them.

Kana nodded, noting her and Veena still wore the dark robes of mourning. "You should have attended, my love," he said, sitting and taking their quiet daughter into his arms. "Perhaps my temper wouldn't have flared."

Mitama didn't ask what had happened. Perhaps she already knew. Instead, she spoke softly, "What do you intend to do?"

The Vallite King held his tongue for a moment, and stroked his daughter's soft hair. The image of his mother's body falling towards him flashed through his mind.

"I intend to protect my family; and if that means war, then war our enemies shall have."


End file.
